And what could I do? I’d already gone so far. My dress was already scrunched down to my waist, big boobies out. The pink nipples were hard as diamonds, and the smell of hungry pussy had begun to waft in the air.
Oh god, oh god.
Because the billionaire could detect it for sure.
Those patrician nostrils flared, sensing the aroma of aroused female, and another knowing grin crossed his face.
“Down,” he commanded, blue eyes seizing mine.
And with trembling legs, I obeyed.
Slowly, I lowered my curvy form so that I knelt next to the billionaire in the aisle, facing his lap. And then my small hands swept upwards, sliding over my waist until they cupped my tits, the flesh overflowing.
“Push ‘em together,” he growled, voice tight. “Tight so it’s like a plate.”
Oh god, the strong smell of wet cunt was unmistakable in the air now. A slight sheen of sweat broke out on my back, but there was no denying the alpha. Because never taking my eyes from his, I obeyed. Cupping my tits, I pushed them up and together so they formed a luscious tableau, a human plate for his pleasure.
And Mr. Dawson was pleased indeed. His eyes ate everything up, sweeping over my kneeling form, the subservient angle of my bent head.
“Perfect,” he rasped. “Perfect, pretty girl. I like it. A lot.”
And with that, he casually scattered a handful of almonds across my white breasts. A couple bounced, leaving small trails of salt, but pretty soon I was adorned like a milk-white platter.
My boobs, naked and creamy, pushed up so that they formed a flat surface.
The nuts scattered carelessly across my flesh, a few even sliding into the shadowy crevice in between.
And Mr. Dawson grinned then, that white smile flashing.
“Perfect, Ms. Evans,” he drawled. “Thank you for setting this up.”
And with that, he leaned back in his chair, opening his newspaper with a snap.
Was that all?
Was I really a piece of furniture, nothing more?
It seemed like it for sure.
But then one big hand snaked out, trailing lightly over my sensitive tits until finding a nut. Then he popped it into his mouth, eyes meeting mine over the paper.
“Tastes good,” the man growled. “Real good.”
I gaped at him, no words coming to mind. Because this was so wrong. Here I was on my first day, dress pooled around my waist, kneeling by a billionaire’s chair while pushing my naked boobies up. I was his almond platter. This was crazy.
But then the billionaire’s eyes met mine again.
“I think they’ll taste even better from here,” he growled. And with that, his finger reached for one of the nuts that’d dropped between my breasts. Those long, clever fingers stroked the shadowy cleft, teasing my skin. And unbidden, I moaned.
“Oh,” was the gasping cry. “Oh.”
Mr. Dawson’s smile flashed again as he popped the almond into his mouth, biting down with a satisfying crunch.
“Even better,” he remarked, those blue eyes hungry. “Even better.”
I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Already, my thighs were burning, calves stretched from this kneeling position. But trying to move didn’t even cross my mind. Because I was here for Mr. Dawson’s pleasure, to do whatever he wanted. Whatever his whims, I had to obey.
So I merely turned big brown eyes his way, pink pout parting slightly.